


Storgaten 78

by lumassen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Romance, SuFin, tw: bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumassen/pseuds/lumassen
Summary: Timo and Peter move from rural Finland to a cushy neighbourhood in Sweden for a fresh start. Peter slowly adjusts to his new life and makes new friends, one of whom ends up living right across the street with his Dad, Berwald.
Relationships: Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Ladonia & Sweden (Hetalia)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	1. One - Moving Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by @snorikefjell <3

“Isn’t this great, Peter?” Timo said as he set the last cardboard box down in the hall with a thud and wiped his brow.

Peter stood beside him in the hallway and looked around at the empty house, currently piled high with moving boxes containing the only thing that he’d ever really known; his life with just him and his Dad. 

Late morning light streamed in through the bay windows in the living room at the end of the hall, catching the dust particles that floated in the air and warmed the polished wood floor.

“All we need to do now is give it a little bit of a spring clean, then it’ll be perfect.”

Looking up at his Dad, Peter watched for a moment as his eyes wandered over the house. They’d moved a long way, a _very_ long way, but Timo was smiling, and as long as his Dad was smiling then Peter knew that everything would be okay. He had nothing to worry about. 

“And unpack, Dad.” he deadpanned, kicking off his tennis shoes and stepping further into the house. 

Timo’s laughter echoed a little in the empty house as he did the same, discarding his shoes to follow his son.

“It looks a lot bigger than it did in the photo’s, huh?” he mused as they both entered the living room and looked around, and then Peter jumped a little as his Dad gasped dramatically.

“ _Jumalauta_ , the fireplace is _real_ , look Peter!”

Turning away from the window that overlooked the overgrown backyard, Peter found Timo with his head ducked into the fireplace on the far side of the living room, peering up into the chimney shaft.

“It’ll be so nice at Christmas time to have a roaring fire that we can sit by, don’t you think?”

Peter shook his head and rolled his eyes ever so slightly, a fond smile on his lips.

“Sure, Dad, we can even toast marshmallows in the fall like we used to do at Grandma’s.”

At this, Timo stepped out from the fireplace and turned to Peter, and Peter didn't miss how his Dad's bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. He stood there for a moment, a wistful expression on his face, then crossed the room with his arms outstretched to gather Peter into a hug. He was getting tall now, Peter realised, when his head came to rest just beneath Timo’s underarm,

“Oh, honey. I know it’s hard. I miss her too.” Timo mumbled as Peter slipped his arms around his Dad’s waist and pressed his cheek against his soft stomach. He could feel the rumble of Timo’s voice as he spoke, then swayed to and fro ever so slightly with him as a kiss was placed on the top of his head.

“But she was always proud of you. Even prouder than I am.”

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Peter held back his sadness and gave his Dad a tight, comforting squeeze before letting go and stepping back to look up at him,

“Is that even possible?” he teased, and was glad when a wide, warm smile spread across Timo’s face,

“No,” Timo chuckled as he gave an affectionate pinch to Peter’s cheek, “I don’t think it is.”

Peter felt his chest tighten for a moment as he swallowed the lump in his throat before taking another step back,

“Y’know what she _wouldn’t_ be proud of though?” he said, prodding Timo in the belly with his finger, a smirk growing on his face.

Timo’s smile faded as he raised an eyebrow at his son in questioning,

“Your Swedish skills.” 

Peter had barely finished his sentence before he shrieked and jumped back away from his Dad who lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of him, but he was too quick.

His feet slipped in his socks against the wooden floor as he tore through the house and dashed upstairs, followed by the heavy thudding of his Dad. At the top of the staircase he was met by a completely empty landing and five doors.

Bursting into the first door in front of him, Peter tumbled into the bathroom. He attempted to slam the door, but found that he was too slow when Timo stopped it from closing on the other side,

“ _Du tar det tillbaka_. (You take that back.)” Timo said through the door, and Peter smiled at his Dad’s bad grammar but didn’t dare correct him as he put all of his weight and strength into keeping the door closed on him.

“ _Nej_!” he cried as he could feel the door opening anyway, his strength obviously no match for that of his Dad’s, then shrieked again when Timo burst into the room and smothered Peter into an embrace and tickled his sides,

 _“L-lopettaa_! Dad, s-stop it!” Peter demanded as he tried to wriggle free, his breath caught in the laughter that involuntarily tore from his throat. But Timo didn’t stop until the pair of them had collapsed into a heap on the bathroom floor, both breathless. Only now that they’d stopped did Peter take a good look around the bathroom at the mustard yellow coloured tiles in the shower and the weird seashell shaped sink basin,

“Wow, this room is kinda ugly, Dad, even for us.” Peter said, not at all unaware that between him and his Dad their interior decorating choices were usually… interesting.

Timo hummed in response and nodded,

“Y’know, it actually looks better in person than it did in the photos, believe it or not.” he admitted, then hauled himself up from the floor,

“It’s a good job I’m a plumber, huh? We’ll make it work.”

There was a triumphant tone to Timo’s voice as he gave the bathroom one last glance over before stepping out onto the landing again. Peter joined him and looked down the long hall. It felt strange to have a second floor, as the house they’d lived in back in Finland had been the only house Peter had ever known, and had lived with his Dad in the little single story cottage by the lake since the day he’d been born.

“Wanna choose your bedroom?” Timo whispered excitedly, playfully nudging Peter as he stood beside him, and Peter nodded, casting his Dad a big smile before stepping in front of him to peer into the first of the three bedrooms.

The room was big and bright, with a huge window that overlooked the street outside. It was nice, but perhaps a bit too big and spacious. The second room was much smaller, with a circular window that was too high up on the wall for Peter to see out of, so definitely not this room. 

That left the third and final room, right at the end of the hall, tucked away beside the laundry room. 

Tentatively, Peter pushed the door open and his eyes widened when they fell upon the room. But it wasn’t the room that drew the gasp from him, it was the tree house nestled within the huge oak tree in the garden beyond the window.

Peter ran over and placed one hand against the glass so that he could stand on his tiptoes and peer outside, bouncing up and down a little in excitement. His breath fogged the window and he glanced at his Dad’s reflection in it for a moment as he joined him in the room.

“Do you like it, baby?” Timo asked tentatively, causing Peter to whirl around on the spot,

“I _love_ it, Dad. Can I have this room?” he pleaded, clasping his hands tightly in front of him,

“Of course you can. We can paint it however you like too, and maybe in the summer you can invite your new friends over to play in the treehouse. I’ll make it safe for you.” 

Peter could tell by the tone in his Dad’s voice that he still felt a little guilty for uprooting him and taking him away from his friends and their old life. 

The move had been hard, and at first Peter hadn’t been happy with the idea at all. But the more he realised that life would never be the same again without his Grandma, and saw how sad it made his Dad to drive past her old house every day while he took him to school he eventually came around to the idea. He was nervous about starting school and not having any friends, but he knew everything would settle eventually, it always did.

Closing the gap between them, Peter gave Timo another tight hug, clasping his hands together behind his back,

“ _Kiitos, Isi_. I think we’re going to like it here.”

With a happy sigh, Timo closed his eyes and leaned down to rest his chin on the top of his sons head,

“So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to write from Sealand and Ladonias POV so here we are :') Lad will appear next chapter
> 
> This will just be a silly little story with not much plot, just something sweet and SuFin hehe
> 
> In this story Peter and Axel are 10 and Timo and Berwald are in their 30s
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -lumassen x


	2. Two - New Kid

“You talk funny.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do. You speak like my Grandma does.”

Axel glanced over to the group of kids surrounding the new pupil as they all began to snicker, mimicking the way he harshly rolled his tongue. It was the same group who’d picked on him when he was the new kid, calling him ‘ugly’, ‘blotchy’, or ‘patch-face’, because of the birthmark that covered his cheek and nose. 

“But that’s how you’re meant to talk. It’s how I was teached in my old school.” he tried to defend himself, but he was drowned out by their chatter and laughter. 

“Good Morning everyone. Trina, Nils, David, back to your seats please.” 

They soon quietened when Mr Ali entered the classroom and shooed them back to their tables, and Axel watched as the new kid slumped in his chair and returned to quietly doodling on his hand, the back of it almost completely covered in blue biro swirls and patterns.

“Alright, homework time. Put your weekend papers on the end of your tables in a neat pile and I’ll come ‘round and collect them. But before I do, we have a new student joining us today,”

Mr Ali paced the room as he spoke, then stopped beside the table where the new kid was sitting,

“Everyone, this is Petteri-Oskar, he’s moved to join us all the way from Finland.” 

At this, a few other students around them ‘ _ooh_ ’ed’, and Petteri-Oskar’s face turned a little pink from all the sudden attention on him,

“Um, my Dad and my friends call me Peter. I only get called Petteri-Oskar if I’m in trouble.” he mumbled, and Mr Ali laughed a little as he gave Peter a smile and a light pat on his shoulder,

“Alright, Peter it is. Just do your homework on time and don’t rock back on your chair and I’ll have no need to call you anything else. And make sure you wash that off after lesson, please.” he said, glancing down at Peter’s hand, then turned to return to the front of the class and clapped his hands for silence, signalling the start of the lesson.

Axel enjoyed Monday morning science class, and paid attention to the lesson on microorganisms as Mr Ali explained their topic of how to classify living things, scribbling notes down until his pencil tip snapped. He looked at the broken lead crumbled on his paper and sighed before raising his hand,

“Yes, Axel?” Mr Ali addressed him after a moment, pausing the lesson,

“My pencil snapped.” he said, holding it out in front of him as though Mr Ali would need proof. 

Putting down his whiteboard lazer pointer, Mr Ali nodded and began to rummage in the drawer on his desk, but before he could produce either a new pencil or a pencil sharpener, Peter’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood up,

“I have a spare one that I can gift to him, Mr Ali.” 

He turned to Axel with a shy smile and picked his pencil case up off his desk, and Mr Ali stopped searching in the drawer,

“Oh, thank you, Peter, that’s very kind.”

Axel eyed Peter as he made his way over to him, and Mr Ali returned to teaching the lesson.

He was tall for their age, with sandy blonde hair cut bluntly at the front. When he stopped beside his desk, Axel could see that his clothes were a little wrinkled, but he smelt like fresh laundry detergent.

“Do you wanna pick a colour?” Peter whispered, giving Axel a gap toothed smile as he unzipped the pencil case and offered it to him.

“Uh, I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter.” Axel shrugged, gaze flickering between Peter as he awkwardly hovered beside him and Mr Ali as he began to write something on the whiteboard and Axel ought to probably be copying down into his workbook.

Putting his hand into the pencil case and taking out the first pencil that he saw, a bright pink one, Axel quickly thanked Peter under his breath before returning his attention to the lesson and not giving Peter the chance to say anything else. 

By the time he looked up again, Peter was back in his seat, chin in his palm as he stared at the front of the class, his workbook blank on the desk beneath his elbow. 

At first play break, Peter sat by himself on the bench in the sensory garden and read a book, during Swedish class he was quiet at the back of the class and didn’t contribute, and at lunch he tried and failed to engage in a conversation with some of their classmates that either talked over him or ignored him.

Axel studied him from where he was sitting with his own friends as eventually Peter gave up and ate the rest of his sandwiches in silence. 

“My great-aunt is from Finland.” Andrea, Axel’s friend said as she caught him staring at Peter, and so he tore his eyes away and ate a spoonful of yoghurt.

“What language do they speak there?” he asked curiously, then put his spoon down to get out the pencil that Peter had let him borrow out of his rucksack and pointed at the foreign looking words on it that he’d noticed while he used it. Andrea looked at it and shrugged,

“I don’t know. Finlandish, I think. My aunt just speaks Swedish though, like us.”

Axel nodded, but then the subject was quickly changed once the bell sounded for lunch time play. The dinner hall suddenly erupted into chatter as lunch boxes were packed away and friendship groups quickly reformed as pupils spilled out into the spring sunshine. 

Rushing to finish his yoghurt before anyone could beat him to his favourite tyre swing, Axel raced out of the hall, across the grass with his friends in tow, and leapt onto the swing as soon as he reached it. The frayed rope burned the palms of his hands a little as he gripped it tightly and swung back and forth.

“What are you doing for Easter? Are you dressing up as witches?” Eva asked the small group of four as she sat down cross-legged on the grass and began to pick at the blades between her fingers. 

Elias pulled a face, and Axel was quick to shake his head,

“Of course not, only girls do that!” Elias cried, but Andrea and Eva just giggled between themselves,

“But you get free candy, so it’s good to be a girl at Easter.” Andrea said, proudly.

Axel hadn’t always been friends with Elias, Eva and Andrea, but they’d all worked together on a history project last summer and ever since had grown pretty close. Andrea was his closest friend out of the group, and her Mother worked at the same doctor’s surgery as his Dad so she would come round to hang out sometimes. 

“My family just come over and we eat lotsa food. Like the spring party we have here at school.” Axel chipped in as he continued to swing back and forth on the tyre, and the topic of conversation remained on Easter traditions until footsteps sounded behind Axel and a finger poked his back. 

Twisting around on the swing to see who his friends were looking at behind him, Axel was met by Peter’s face just inches from his own.

“Hello, um, I hope you liked the pencil. They are new, just for school.” he said, mumbling through his fingers as he chewed at the skin around his fingernail. His hand was stained blue from where he’d tried to wash all the ink off as Mr Ali had asked of him. 

Axel blinked at Peter as he slid off the swing, and was just about to ask him if he wanted it back when he spotted the group of bullies from this morning staring at him from across the playground. His gaze darted between them and Peter for a moment before he gritted his teeth and gave Peter a light shove, sending him stumbling backwards a couple of paces,

“It’s only a silly pencil. And I don’t have it anymore. I gave it to one of the girls because it was a pink girly colour. Now leave me alone, weirdo.” he spat, narrowing his eyes and balling his fists by his side. 

Peter’s bottom lip trembled as he stood and stared at Axel, and then he flinched a little before hurrying away as the group of bullies laughed louder than necessary from across the yard, obviously amused by Axel’s display. 

“Axel, why were you mean to him?” Eva was the first to confront Axel when he turned back around again, a look of shock across her face.

Whetting his lips, Axel ran a hand through his red hair,

“‘Cause he talks weird. Don’t you think he does too?” he said, sitting back on the swing again,

“Well, yeah he does, but you still don’t have to be mean,” Andrea sided with Eva, and Axel felt his cheeks begin to burn under their scrutiny, “You should say sorry.”

“Well, he’s gone now so I can’t.” 

Though they didn’t seem too pleased with his weak excuse, Axel’s friends left the topic at that as Elias began to boast about his new Minecraft skin pack that his Dad let him download, and Axel was left partially excluded now as he just sat and listened until it was time to go back to class.

\------------

Peter stayed clear of Axel for the rest of the day, making an obvious effort to avoid his gaze in P.E when they played football together, and waited until he’d returned to his table after getting his afternoon fruit snack before he got up to go and get his. 

He felt bad, but he’d only just managed to get the bullies to stop paying attention to him a couple of months ago, and he didn’t want them to think that he was friends with the weird new kid. 

When the school day ended, while he was waiting at the school gates for the bus, Axel watched from within the huddled group of pupils around him as Peter had ran out to his Dad who crouched down on the pavement beside him and pulled him into a tight hug while he began to cry, wiping his tears away with his blue stained hand. 

“What a cry baby. And his Dad still picks him up too. Such a loser.” some of the older kids in their class whispered to each other, pointing and laughing at Peter. Although he was partially to blame for Peters tears, Axel still didn’t like real bullies, and so from the security of being surrounded by lots of other pairs of feet, Axel looked in the opposite direction as he stamped on the foot of one of the older girls as she continued to laugh at Peter.

“Ow! Who stood on my foot? That hurt!” she cried, but before she could cause any more fuss the bus pulled up and Axel was pulled toward it by the crowd of students who piled on, happy to be going home.

Making a beeline for an empty seat and shoving his backpack beside him so no one could sit with him, Axel leaned on the window and sighed, glancing at Peter as he climbed into the back seat of his Dad’s little red car as the bus passed by. 

He hadn’t noticed, but the little red car had followed the school bus all the way home, and only when Axel hopped off and said goodbye to the driver did he see it pull into the driveway of the house across the road. 

The front door to his own house opened and his Dad stepped out, but Axel remained rooted to the spot as he held his breath and his stomach plummeted while he watched the car doors open.

“That’s Peter and his Dad, Timo. Our new neighbours.” Axel’s Dad, Berwald, said as he came out to stand beside him on the driveway and, to Axel’s horror, waved at Peter’s Dad as he got out of the car. 

“I’ve invited them ‘round for Easter lunch on Thursday. Peter seems nice, an’ I think he goes to your school, so I thought maybe you could be his friend.” Berwald said obliviously, and Axel watched as Timo waved back cheerfully. Then, Peter climbed out of the back seat and his face turned to stone when he laid eyes on his new neighbour. 

The two boys stared at each other until Axel saw Timo nudge his son a little and whispered something to him, resulting in him waving weakly at Axel. Looking between his new neighbours and up at his Dad, Axel felt his face burn bright red and palms grow clammy before he turned on his heel and dashed into the house, leaving Berwald standing out on the driveway.


	3. Three - Mr Väinämöinen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note that although this story is of course written in English, for some of the plotlines to make sense I thought I'd clarify that Peter and Timo speak Finnish when it’s just the two of them in a scene, as that is both of their native languages in this AU. When Peter is at school and Timo is interacting with anyone besides Peter, they will always be speaking Swedish or sometimes English if specifically stated.

The house was dark, and Timo stirred at the sound of snivelled whispers in his ear. As he rolled over in bed and fumbled to switch on the lamp, he was met by the teary-eyed face of Peter.

“Dad… I d-don-t feel very we-well.” he sobbed quietly, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his hands wrung at the bottom of his pyjamas.

“Oh Peter, honey, come here.” Timo said as he blinked away his bleariness and hurried to shuffle into the middle of the bed. Then he opened up the duvet and nodded to the warm and empty space beside him.

With a few more little sobs, Peter climbed into bed and nestled into the space, laying his head down on his Dad’s chest as he closed the duvet tightly around him and pulled him close.

“Tell me what’s wrong, darling,” Timo mumbled against the top of Peter’s head as he left a kiss there and ran his fingers through his hair.

It took a moment for Peter to stop crying and compose himself, and Timo’s t-shirt was quickly growing damp as his tears dripped onto it,

“I can’t g-go to school today. I feel sick, and my tummy and my brain h-hurts.” he said, his voice muffled from where he was lying with his face buried in Timo’s chest.

Leaning back a little so that his head was resting against the wall behind the bed, Timo let out a small sigh,

“But baby, I have to work.” he cooed, feeling guilty as Peters balled fists clutching his t-shirt tightened a little, but it was too short notice to cancel the job he had lined up for today without loosing his pay,

“Can you go to school and see how you are? I’ll call ahead and tell the school you aren’t very well today so they can keep an eye on you, and I’ll cancel the dinner with the neighbours tonight so you can just come straight home.”

Timo pulled Peter closer, and wiped away a tear from his cheek with the pad of his thumb, “If you really do need to come home, then tell the nurse and I’ll leave work to come and pick you up right away. Does that sound okay, angel?”

It took a moment, but Peter eventually nodded weakly and Timo shuffled down further under the covers and turned so he was on his side. He slipped his hand up the back of Peter’s pyjama top and began to rub small, calming circles with the flat of his palm as he peppered soft kisses against his son’s forehead. Timo only stopped when Peter drifted off to sleep again, snoring softly into his ear while he closed his own eyes to catch a couple more hours of sleep before his alarm went off. 

At breakfast, Peter hardly ate anything but a couple spoonfuls of cornflakes, and he was slow and sluggish while he got dressed. Timo tried his best to cheer him up, and even let him watch morning cartoons under a blanket while he got ready for work.

He’d checked his temperature with the thermometer in the first aid kit and made sure he drank a glass of water in case he was dehydrated. But Peter didn’t have a fever, and he’d been just fine yesterday.

As Timo drove, he glanced at Peter in the back seat at every opportunity, his heart sinking at the sight of his tearful eyes and sullen expression as he leaned on the car door. Pulling the handbrake on when he pulled up outside Peter’s school, Timo unfastened his seatbelt and turned around fully in his seat.

“Are you sure you’re well enough, Peter? You can tell me if you’re not and I won’t be angry. I know I said I need to work but I can turn the car around right now and we can go home.”

Slipping his hand through the gap between the front seats, Timo laid his hand on his son’s knee and gave it a little squeeze. When Peter met his gaze from beneath tear-soaked eyelashes Timo gave him a big smile in the hopes of being reassuring.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll tell the nurse if I need you to come and get me.” Peter mumbled through a watery smile as he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his school bag from the footwell, then hesitated for a moment, 

"And will you promise to cancel the dinner at the neighbours house?"

“Alright, as long as you’re sure, my brave boy, and of course I will. You're not well enough, so I'm sure they won't mind. We can do it another time.” Timo said, his heart swelling with pride as Peter nodded and reached for the door handle,

“Okay. Bye, Dad.”

Leaning to look out of the passenger side window as Peter got out of the car and closed the door, Timo called after him and blew a kiss,

“Have a good day, honey, I love you!” he shouted through the window, then chuckled to himself under his breath as Peter’s face turned red and he quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching him before he blew a kiss back.

Timo waited until Peter was through the school gates and at the entrance to his classroom before he drove away, though couldn’t help but notice how unlike the other kids his age who all huddled together in their little friendship groups and wait for each other by the gate, Peter just headed straight inside by himself.

It didn’t take Timo long to drive to the location of his first job for the day once he’d followed his navigation. He was still trying to get used to how quickly the robotic Swedish voice gave him the directions and had to do a u-turn at one point when he went the wrong way, but eventually he found the house and parked up on the driveway.

He was a couple minutes early for the appointment to install a new kitchen sink for his client, so as promised he killed the engine and pulled out his phone.

  
Peter’s school was one of the small list of only six contacts that Timo had stored in his phone, one of whom was his Mother. Although it had been nearly a year since she’d passed, he still couldn’t bring himself to delete her number from his phone, and would call just to listen to her voice on her recorded answer machine greeting sometimes if he’d had a bad day and leave a message to get it off his chest.

Bringing the phone to his ear, Timo listened as the dial tone rang three times before the school receptionist answered.

“Good Morning, Kjellberg School, how may I help?”

Timo glanced at himself in the wing mirror and took in a breath,

“Hello, I am Mr Väinämöinen. My child is Petteri Väinämöinen.” He stammered, his tongue already tripping over the Swedish words and he felt his face redden as he was painfully aware of his thick accent.

“I, uh- He was not very well feeling this morning, he has a bad, um…”

Timo paused, forgetting the words he needed, and tapped the palm of his hand against his forehead in an attempt to think harder,

  
“Head? Throat? Stomach?” the receptionist offered, and Timo exhaled sharply in relief,

“Yes! Stomach! He has a bad stomach. He has eaten a little, and I checked to see if he was too hot but he was normal. Can someone call me if he needs to come home?”

The receptionist hummed in acknowledgement, and Timo could hear her typing as she paused for a moment.

“Petteri-Oskar? Class 3B?” she asked, and Timo nodded.

“Yes, that’s my boy.”

There was another short pause and more typing, and Timo took the opportunity to get out of the car, pressing his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he did so.

Then, while leaning on the open door, he reached into the front pocket of his overalls and pulled a cigarette out from the pack.

“Okay, Mr Väinämöinen, I’ve made a note on his file and sent it over to the school nurse. I can get her to check on him at lunchtime if you’d like?” The receptionist said as Timo lit the cigarette,

“Yes, I would. Thank you.” He nodded again, pleased, and the receptionist continued.

“But while I have you on the phone, the school guidance councillor actually has some concerns about your son.” 

At her words, Timo felt his heart skip a beat as he took in a quick drag from his cigarette,

“What? Why?” he demanded, his mind now racing,

“Petteri isn’t in-“

“He likes to be called Peter.” Timo corrected the receptionist and listened to her sigh quietly down the phone,

  
“Apologies, _Peter_ , isn’t in trouble, he’s a very sweet boy, but his teacher, Mr Ali, has just noticed a few things that he’d like the councillor to discuss with you. Can you let me know your availability so we can arrange for the councillor to call you?”

Drumming his fingers on the top of the car door, Timo held his cigarette between his lips as he took his phone away from his ear and switched it to loudspeaker so he could check his calendar.

“I have a day off from working next Tuesday. Or I am free in the evening always.” He confirmed, then brought the phone back to his ear,

“Can you not tell me now what it is? Is Peter okay?”

“I can’t. It’s confidential between you and the councillor, Mr Väinämöinen. All I can see here is a note on your son's file to advise that his parent needs to be contacted and not any reasoning. I’m sorry, but please don’t worry.” Her tone was apologetic, and Timo scraped his free hand through his hair as she continued,

“There’s a free slot with the councillor on Tuesday at 10:30am if that works for you?”

Without even hesitating, Timo accepted her appointment and once more the line went silent as the receptionist typed it up.

“Alright, that’s been scheduled for you. The councillors name is Mr Jensen, and he’ll call this number you’re calling from today, is that okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Thank you.”

Finishing his cigarette, Timo stubbed it out on the roof of his car then tossed the butt into the ashtray on the dashboard inside it and slammed the door closed.

Before she ended the call, the receptionist confirmed that the nurse would call if Peter needed to be picked up from school today, and Timo thanked her once more. Locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket, he stood for a moment, his mind jumping to every possible conclusion. 

_Was Peter struggling? Was he a bad student? Was he a good student? Had he made a selfish mistake and moved to damn Sweden when Peter was happy enough back in Finland with his friends?_

Dropping his head into his hands, Timo ran his fingers over his face and sighed into his palms, trying to push his worries to the back of his mind. He would just speak to Peter tonight. Besides, he always told him everything.

Opening up the trunk of his car, Timo took out his toolkit and a bucket of sealant and stood up on his tiptoes to pull it closed again. Then, once it was locked, Timo left his car on the drive and made his way up the garden path. The house of his client was big and quite stately, and as he stopped in front of the door and rang the bell Timo looked up to admire the guttering work; something that probably only a plumber would ever pay attention to.

The door opened after a short while, and Timo smiled widely at the woman on the other side as he tipped his cap.

“Good Morning, Mrs Lindström, I’m here to build your new sink.” he introduced himself, then wiped his feet on the mat before stepping inside when Mrs Lindström moved to the side to invite him in.

“Ah, wonderful. You’re perfectly on time which is more than I can say for most workmen.” she said with a light laugh, and Timo took her words as a compliment though didn’t know what to say in return.

A little awkwardly, he hovered in the doorway for a moment before turning to close it behind him,

“Would you like me to remove my shoes?” he asked, making note of the fact that the carpet throughout the house was expensive looking, plush, and dauntingly cream coloured. 

Once again looking pleasantly surprised, Mrs Lindström nodded and gave Timo a wide smile,

“How considerate. Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Happy to oblige, Timo set down his toolkit to take his boots off and neatly placed them by the door. 

“If you’d like to follow me I’ll show you to the sink. Can I get you a drink while you work?”

Pulling her shawl a little further around her shoulders, Mrs Lindström paused in the arch between the hall and the kitchen.

“A coffee would be very nice.” Timo said as he followed her into the kitchen. 

“Coffee it is. I’ll get my husband to make it for you. Now, let me tell you about the sink…”

\-------------------------

  
By the end of his work day, Timo was tired as he drove home. Mrs Lindström and her sink had been his longest job, but she’d tipped him generously for his work and booked him in to do some work on her bathroom. After that he’d re-tiled a bathroom splashback at a community centre, then his final job was to fix a leaking pipe for an elderly man who ran the local church. He’d told Timo about the Easter Sunday service and egg hunt that was coming up that weekend as he worked, and Timo had made a mental note to ask Peter if he wanted to go along. 

Though it hadn’t been very long, just little over a month in fact, since they’d moved to Sweden, Timo found that he was settling in well to his new life, and perhaps Peter would be able to hang out with some of the kids in his class outside of school if they were going to the church egg hunt too. The Swedish economy was a little better than how it had been in Finland, and Timo was noticing that it was easier to make ends meet by now living in a town rather than a rural village. There was always a need for a plumber, and so work wasn’t difficult for him to find. Still, he hadn’t made any new friends yet besides a brief chat with the neighbour.

Parking up on his driveway once he reached home, Timo got out and stretched his arms high above his head and wanted nothing but to head inside for a hot shower then collapse on the couch in front of the tv. But before he got settled for the afternoon until it was time to go and get Peter from school, Timo noticed that his neighbour's car was on the drive, so he thought it best to cancel the dinner this evening before he could forget.

Crossing the road, Timo pushed open the iron gate at the end of the path and rang the doorbell, quickly wiping away the black, oily finger print that he left on the white plastic button before Berwald could answer. 

The click of the lock being turned on the other side of the door could be heard, and Timo politely took a step back as it opened.

“Oh, Timo. You’re a little early, I haven’t started the food yet…” Berwald looked surprised and Timo watched as he quickly gave him a once over and looked at his dirty hands and overalls, but nonetheless still stepped aside to let him in,

“Ah, no, well,” Timo interjected, clasping his hands together across his chest in apology, “I was coming to tell you we cannot come. Peter is sick. I’m sorry.”   
Berwald raised an eyebrow, then stepped further out onto the doorstep,

“Sick? Do you know what’s the matter with him? Does he have any particular symptoms?” 

Timo just stood there, mouth slacken, knowing that Berwald had asked him a question but didn’t quite understand what he’d said.

“Um, yes, he’s sick.” he said again, and Berwald frowned.

“Is it easier for you if I speak English?”

A little taken aback by Berwald’s even deeper and more blunt tone of voice as he switched to English, it took Timo a moment to realise what he’d asked before he hurried to thank him.

“Yes! Thank you, Berwald. I’m trying to practice my Swedish as best I can, but sometimes I still struggle. Did you know that my Mom was a Swedish-Finn? Well, of course you wouldn’t know that, but she was. She’d probably be a little disappointed in me right now if she were here, but we never spoke Swedish at home you see. I’ve always been better at English. I think it’s ‘cause I like watching those BBC nature programmes, y’know? So of course my Finnish is still best, I’m from Finland by the way, but my English is better than my Swedish by a mile.”

Suddenly now able to express himself better, words began to tumble from Timo’s mouth before he could stop them, leaving Berwald a little stunned by his sudden rambled tangent as he blinked several times from behind his glasses.

“Can tell.” he said, and Timo felt himself turn pink as he picked at the hairs on the back of his neck,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

“Peter. You said he was sick. What’s the matter?” Berwald asked again, and Timo shrugged.

“Honestly I’m not sure. He says he feels sick and that his “brain hurts.” He was crying this morning, but the school nurse hasn’t called me today so I’m pretty stumped.” he admitted, and Berwald nodded slowly.

“Want me to come and take a look?” he offered, but Timo just shook his head with a smile, politely declining the offer,

“No no, it’s okay. I took his temperature this morning and I have plenty of medicines in the house if he needs anything, and though I don’t think it's anything serious we should probably just have a quiet night at home.”

Berwald nodded again, and Timo couldn’t help but feel a little bad,

“I really am sorry, I hope Axel isn’t too disappointed. It would have been nice for Peter to find a friend. Thank you for inviting us. Maybe we can have you over instead sometime soon as an apology for today?” he said, trying not to sound too hopeful and also wanted to disguise the fact that he was fishing for any information about his son’s friendship groups.

“S’fine, these things happen. But if he gets worse just lemme know. I’m a doctor.”

At this, Timo felt a little comforted for some reason at the knowledge that a doctor lived right across the street,

“Oh! Well, thanks, Ber! I’m a plumber and handyman, so if you ever have a burst pipe or your ceiling needs plastering then you know where I am!” he said, proudly pointing towards his self employed business branding on his cap. 

“Will do. Hope Peter feels better soon.” Berwald said through the faintest of smiles, and Timo beamed in return as he turned to take his leave. 

“Thank you! Bye, Ber!” he called as he jogged down the three stone steps away from Berwald’s front door, then heard it close gently behind him as he hurried across back the road to his own home.

  
\------------------

  
“Peter, can you bring your dishes into the kitchen?” Timo called through the house from where he was standing with his hands in warm soapy water later that evening. Peter seemed a little brighter than he had done that morning when Timo spotted him at the school gates, though he was still unusually quiet.   
It took him a moment, but soon Timo heard the faint clatter of plates and the soft pad of Peters spiderman slippers across the hardwood floor as he emerged from the living room.

“Here, Dad.” Peter said, stopping by Timo’s side and holding up his clean dinner plate and bowl, his empty juice cup balanced precariously on the edge of the plate.

“Just drop them into the water, honey.” Timo nodded toward the sink and took his hands out of the water while Peter did as he was told. He was pleased to see that Peter had eaten all of his meal, though he was still a little worried.

“How are you feeling now? Was your dinner nice?” Timo asked casually, keeping his voice light, and watched as Peter shrugged a little out the corner of his eye.

“A little better. And yeah, dinner was tasty. Thanks Dad.” he mumbled, then leant his head gently against Timo’s side as he deflated against him. Pausing the scrubbing of the frying pan beneath the water, Timo looked down at the top of his son's head as he nestled against him.

“Peter, sweetheart, this isn’t like you. Won’t you tell me what’s the matter?” he cooed, quickly grabbing the dish cloth that was draped over his shoulder and dried his hands on it as Peter began to snivel. 

Moving away from the sink, Timo dragged a chair out from underneath the dining table that they never used for anything besides homework and sat down. Peter clung to him like he hadn’t done since he was much younger and Timo pulled him up so that he was sitting in his lap. 

“Is it school stuff? Your teacher, Mr Ali, he’s worried about you. The receptionist at your school told me.” Timo pressed, his heart sinking lower with each small sob that Peter let out.

“Peter, baby, you have to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t stop it or help you if you won’t tell m-”

“I hate school! The lessons are too hard, I don’t understand Swedish, it’s a stupid language and the other kids in my class- t-they’re mean to me. They say I t-talk funny and Axel, he pushed me and everyone laughed! I tried to be nice like you taught me, b-but it didn’t work Daddy-” 

Sobs ripped from Peter’s throat as he buried his face into Timo’s neck and Timo held him close and rocked back and forth slowly as he stroked his hair. The worry in the pit of his stomach was quickly replaced with a burning rage, but for Peter's sake he held it in.

“Thank you for telling me, my angel, my wonderful boy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he whispered into his ear, then left a lingering kiss against Peter’s temple as he cried. He continued to cry for a little while, and Timo just dutifully held him tightly, taking hold of his little hand in his and brushing his thumb along the back of it until his sobs quietened into hiccuping snivels. 

“Peter, when you say Axel, do you mean the neighbours kid? The one with the red hair?” he asked once Peter had calmed down, and felt him slowly nod against his shoulder.

“And you said he pushed you?”

Peter nodded again, and Timo stared daggers out of the kitchen window at the house across the street.

“You-You’re not m-mad at me, are you Dad?” Peter mumbled, averting his gaze to look down at the silver ring on Timo’s finger as he fiddled with it absentmindedly.

Timo tore his eyes away from the window to stare at him incredulously.

“Of course I’m not, Petteri! Don’t be so silly. I’m mad at the children who’ve made you upset like this, and mad that your teachers haven’t done anything about this!” he shouted, causing Peter to flinch a little,

“Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to yell, but why didn’t you tell me sooner? Just wait until I go down there-”

“Dad, no! You can’t, it always makes it worse.” Peter hurried to interrupt, letting go of his Dad's hand and instead placed both hands on the side of his face and forced him to look at him as he pleaded,

“But I have to, or this’ll just continue! Trust me, I know all about bullies-”

“Then you know that it just gets even w-worse once parents get called in. Dad, you just _can’t_.”

Peter’s eyes were beginning to brim with tears again, and so Timo let out a long sigh and nodded reluctantly,

“Okay, alright. I won’t do anything in front of you, I promise, but I am going to call the school to try and sort this out. You don’t need to worry, it’ll all be okay sweetheart. I love you so much, and I’m always here. You can always talk to me.”

Taking advantage of the fact that Peter still had his hands pressed against his cheeks and was looking right at him, Timo looked deep into his eyes as he spoke to make sure that Peter knew that he was being serious.

“I l-love you too.” Peter snivelled, letting go of Timo’s face to instead wrap his arms around his neck. 

The dishwater in the sink had long since gone cold by the time Peter slid off Timo’s lap, and his leg had gone to sleep from where his son had been sitting on it. 

“C’mon, help your old Dad up, will you?” he whined over-dramatically, and was glad when a hint of Peter’s usual cheeky grin appeared in the corners of his mouth as he held his hand out towards him.

“Ugh, you’re not _that_ old.” Peter groaned as he rolled his eyes, but still humoured his Dad as he took hold of his hand and pulled with all his might, heaving him up and out of the wooden chair. 

Timo stretched and sighed once he was up, then glanced between his son and the refrigerator, a smirk spreading across his face as a result of the knowledge of what was inside.

“So, seeing as though you ate all your dinner and you’re feeling better, how does strawberry jelly and whipped cream for desert sound?” he said with a shrug, and held back laughter at the look on Peter’s face at the mention of his favourite sweet treat.

“Sounds like scrummy _heaven_ , Dad!” he cheered as he bounced up and down on the spot on the balls of his feet, and Timo ruffled the top of his head.

“Help me finish these dishes then and we’ll have some.”

Happy to oblige, Peter dragged the dining chair over to the sink and stood on it so that he could reach the sink while Timo ran some fresh water, and the two of them were soon laughing and flicking soap suds at each other, all worries forgotten for now, even if it were just for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Timo is mushy af when it comes to his baby, but just let him live pls. He's embarassing and he knows it, thank you.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -lumassen x


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